


Child of the Devil, Child of Wonders

by Halliah



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, With happy ending, a quick look into their future tohether, but also trublesome past, but it's never that easy, i needed some fluff, i want credence to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halliah/pseuds/Halliah
Summary: He tries and tries to control it. This dark thing coiling inside of him.'The Devil's child.' His mother calls him.With time he realises she must have been right. For the magic is good so the darkness inside of him is something else.





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes he spends his nights praying. He asks for guidance, for persistence. He begs God to take It away, to stop things from shaking when he gets angry. He is better now, but not good enough. Never enough. Back when he was a child he lost control and let the Devil take control. Mother made sure he couldn’t sleep for three days, so he wouldn’t let his guard down. He was very grateful for her care. Now he is more careful, keeps everything inside. He has learnt not to scream, not to choke on his tears. Even when everything hurts he keeps quiet and doesn’t let It out. Before he met Ms. Goldstein and Mr. Graves he thought it was magic. He thought his fate was sealed and one day he would burn. But neither of the witches have told him anything about It. He knows what it means. It’s not magic inside him, for he has learnt that magic could be good. No, it was the Devil, just like mother has warn him. So he stays on his knees for hours, hoping it will make a difference when he finally meets the Maker. But he isn’t selfish. He also prays for Mr. Graves. This man has done so much for him, that containing his wish in a small prayer seems like nothing. Finding that special, magical child is important. When he is at his lowest a little voice inside his head, voice that never quietens, whispers

_‘It’s more important than you. You are nothing, just a Devil child, even a witch doesn’t want you.’_

He tries to make this voice go away, he knows it’s lying. Mr. Graves has told him many times how important he was, that he would take him away. At last he prays for Ms. Goldstein. She is a kind, strong woman. He has noticed her at the gatherings, even when she didn’t dare to come closer. He wants to tell her that it’s okay, he isn’t mad. Even Mr. Graves can’t take him away, so he knows she couldn’t too. As the dawn breaks he gets up from his knees. and goes to the kitchen. He makes breakfast for mother and his sisters, as always. God looks with kinder eye on those who keep their customs unchanged. With less chaos there is more peace. His mother loves to remind him of it. His hands are swollen from the punishment from last night. He uses a knife with care, makes sure not to grime the food with dried blood. He can hear the house waking up, his sisters coming out of their beds. He has little time left, before mother comes down. With shaking hands he puts her food in a wrapping and makes sure everything is perfect. Mother deserves nothing less for her service for the God.

 

He can’t feel his hands when Mr. Graves takes one of the last brochures. It’s stained with blood, wet from the rain. He is thankful that none of the potential members has received it.  
“Oh, dear boy. What has she done this time?” The man asks and pulls his hands closer, so he can look at the damage.  
“It’s nothing, sir. Mother made sure that the Devil wasn’t inside of me.”  
Lie. The Devil was always inside of him. Even now he can feel it, coiling in his loins, ready to take control. It makes him shiver, the knowledge that being close to Mr. Graves almost breaks his control.  
“There’s no devil, my dear. The only monster is that awful woman you have to live with. But be calm, it won’t be long. When we find the child we will move to some better place. “ Mr. Graves heals his hand while talking.  
Even through his gratefulness he can feel tears gathering in his eyes. This damned child is keeping him from his Eden, from living with his savior. He wants to find them as quickly as he can, but he also wants not to find them. Their specialty will take Mr. Graves away, he won’t have much time for some Devil’s child. He silences traitorous thoughts that should never cross his mind. He will repent during the night, pray for Mr. Graves and his mission.  
“I’m trying, sir. I really am. I’m so sorry.” He says while leaning into the wondrous body heat of another human being.  
He can’t remember when someone has touched him with so much care.  
“I know, I know.” Mr. Graves tells him soothingly. “And I also now you won’t disappoint me.”  
He nods and swallows painfully. He is such a bad person, letting this man down is the worst thing he could have done.  
“I won’t. I will try harder, I swear.”  
He wants to look Mr. Graves in the eyes as he says that. He rises his head, but startles when he notices how close they are. He tries to move back, but Mr. Graves is still holding his hand. The man starts to smile, his eyes crinkle making him look younger, even more handsome. He curses the bad thought that the Devil has sent to his mind.  
“You don’t have to go yet, my dear.”  
Suddenly his hands are free, but there are warm, strong arms around him.  
“We still have time.” Mr. Graves continues.  
He stifles a little, but doesn’t try to move. After taking a deep breath he return a hug. It silences the voice in his mind, but the darkness tries to get out more than ever. It makes his hearts beat faster, his blood rushes to his cheeks. He tries to control it, but once again faces defeat. He is nothing compared to the Devil’s power.  
“Tell me, do you want something? Something I can give you, to make the time before we move to the better world seem shorter?”  
He doesn’t have an answer. This man is already everything he has ever wanted. But his treacherous tongue seems to work against his wishes. Another sign he is dirty, that he doesn’t deserve this kind treatment.  
“A kiss.”  
Why, oh why he laments in his mind. Even in his dreams asking for something this daring seems like too much. Doing it while awake only shows how strong the Devil’s grip on him is. He expects to be hit, yelled at. Instead he feels a soft rumble going through the chest underneath him. After a second he realizes it’s a laugh.  
“You can always ask for such a small thing.”  
There are hands on his face, making him look up. Before he can do anything there are also lips on his. There are warm, a little bit chapped. There are everything he hasn’t dared to dream of. The kiss is soft, as all first kisses should be. When they finally part, he thinks that it is impossible that the Devil would encourage something this beautiful. Even between two men it is magnificent.  
“Anything else?” There is smugness in Mr. Graves’s voice.  
“N-no. Thank you.” He answers breathlessly.  
He lets his head lean against a strong shoulder in front of him. He feels warmer than he has in years, maybe ever. He hides his small smile in his savior’s clothes.

 

He can’t remember his before-mother. He knows nothing about her, besides her being a witch. Sometimes he thinks about his father. Maybe it was a demon. And that’s why the thing inside him isn’t magic but something darker, colder. He thinks of it as a black smoke, coiling under his skin. He would even think he had no normal organs, only hollowness filled by smoke, if not for the blood that mother spills. Sometimes when he lays in his bed and can’t sleep he thinks what Mr. Graves would think. Would he be disgusted? Their kisses has stayed innocent thus far, but he can see the hunger. He knows, that one day he won’t resist the temptation and will offer everything he is. He wonders if, as they make love, Mr. Graves will notice. That something isn’t right with him. He turns on his bed and can’t stop thinking about how their relationship will end. He fears he will be forgotten, useless in the new world or maybe he will be deemed too dark, too cold for the warm and beautiful world of magic. He wants to tell Mr. Graves those fears, to hear how wrong he is about them. But he is too afraid of being right, so he keeps his silence. He cherishes every hug and hopes that the darkness inside of him won’t consummate Mr. Graves. He knows that one day it will be too much and he will burst like that thing from one of his sisters’ story. He thinks about going to Ms. Goldstein, about telling her all about it. But she would take him away from mother. He knows he needs to stay where he is, for Mr. Graves. So he adds another prayer to his list: Keep Mr. Graves away when he finally breaks.

 

He notices the change. He doesn’t exactly know what it is, but Mr. Graves is different. Those small kisses turn hungry, full of something different from passion, something darker. He feels that if the darkness doesn’t consume him, Mr. Graves will. The man’s persistence also grows. He wants answers and he wants them now. ‘I don’t know.’ Seems to make him angry, almost furious.  
“I can’t give you more, boy. You should have found that child ages ago.” He says, while holding him by the hair at the back of his head.  
“I’m sorry, sir. I just… I don’t even know their age. And mother helps almost every orphan in New York.”  
The man snarls and lets go of him. He closes his eyes and waits for a blow. It doesn’t come, but there is a hand on his face.  
“I should be apologizing to you, my dear friend. It’s been a rather stressful week for me. It seems like I can’t control myself. I am really sorry.”  
He nods with understating. That must be it. That was the cause of this strange changes.  
“It’s nothing Mr. Graves. I will find that child for you, you don’t have to worry about it.”  
He tries to smile, but his face doesn’t seem to know how. Still, it works. The man in front of him is once again his savior.  
“And how is your back? Is it any better?” He asks with soft voice.  
He nods, glad for the change of topic.  
“Yes, thank you. If not for your spell I wouldn’t have survived the night.”  
The man looks glad, maybe a little proud of himself. He is surprised, such a good man doesn’t have to be prideful of such a small deed. Mr. Graves has been created for much larger things.  
“Good. Do you want to eat something? If you have time we can go somewhere.”  
He looks up at the sky. He has an hour or two before twilight. Mother shouldn’t notice his disappearance yet.  
“ I… If it wouldn’t be too much of a problem.”  
There is an arm around his shoulders and suddenly there are moving. When he opens his eyes there are in another alley, but in a completely different part of the city.  
“Come. They have a great cocoa here.” Mr. Graves tells him and leads him inside of one of the café’s.  
It is a really nice place. It looks better than their church or home. He feels completely out place with all the warm colors and comfortable looking chairs. Mr. Graves leaves him at one of the tables and goes to make an order. He is grateful that he doesn’t have to make the decision himself. He waits patiently and looks around. There are paintings on the walls, paintings with moving people. He finds them fascinating and almost doesn’t notice Mr. Graves coming back.  
“It looks like you like this place.” The man notices with a smile.  
He nods bashfully. He almost asks if he can stay here, never come back to the cold, ugly world. It’s not shyness that stops him, but that coiling feeling inside of him. It reminds him that he is a part of that world, another cold, ugly thing.  
“I ordered a cake and coca for you. Just like promised.”  
He almost says that he hasn’t been promised anything beside a place in a new world.  
“Thank you, sir.” He answers instead.  
They don’t have to wait long. Soon a waitress comes with a coffee, a coca and the biggest slice of cake he has ever seen.  
“Thank you.” He says again, both to the waitress and the man in front of him.  
He eats quietly, sometimes just looks around to remind himself in what kind of place he is. Mr. Graves doesn’t speak up, just watches him in silence. Once they both finish and the sky gets dark he knows it’s time to leave.  
“It was truly delicious. Once again thank you for your kindness.”  
“There is nothing to thank for, dear boy.” The man says and takes him back to the gray world.

 

When he thinks about touching Mr. Graves he imagines it would be slow, that he would finally feel warm. Maybe even warmer than he feels when kissing the man. He doesn’t expect that, when he finally touches the man, it will get overwhelming so soon. He also doesn’t know that his partner won’t care. It is one of their last meetings, even if neither of them knows it. Mother has struck his face, she hasn’t meant to. She was going for his arm, but he suddenly moved. As he waits for Mr. Graves he rubs his cheek, pain helping him stay in control. Focus is the most important thing in controlling the Devil, he has been thought. And nothing helps to focus more than pain.  
“Have you… What is it?” He hears and looks up.  
Mr. Graves is in front of him. The man takes his face into his palms. The healing charm sting a little. What really makes him uncomfortable is that rough look of his savior.  
“Is… Is everything all right?” He asks quietly.  
“Yes.” Comes a curt answer.  
There is a something strange in the way that Mr. Graves looks at him. It’s almost calculating. Before he can think about it he is being kissed. It is more aggressive even more than their other kisses. He doesn’t know if he likes it. He wants to protest, but can’t find any words. The darkness in him almost reaches out, almost brakes the surface, but a knee on his groin stops it. He is pressed against the wall, shielded by another body. He feels warm, but not that kind of warm he has grown to associate with Mr. Graves. He feels feverish. But it is everything he has dreamt of. He has wanted it. So he lets it happen. Even as touch grows uncomfortable, even as he is turned around he tells himself it is what he wants. When a first finger breaches him and he tries to escape there’s a hand around his throat.  
“Nothing of that now. You are helping me now even more, my dear. I am really tired, both of your inability to help me and of lack of your commitment to this case. Right know you can show me that I’m wrong, that you really care.”  
He stills and doesn’t try to explain. He knows that it won’t help. So he waits till it is over. Soon he is stretched enough and he feels something bigger entering him. He thinks about his prayers as the man behind him pants and seeks his release. He wants to find the child. But he doesn’t know if he really wants to give It up. Right know it is an only thing that keeps him standing.

 

Later, as he lays in some abandoned building, he thinks it was accurate. There really is black smoke inside of him. He thinks what Mr. Graves thinks of him now. He thinks about his little sister. His cheek hurts, when his almost-savior has struck him. He thinks about the Devil and wonders that maybe he is his child. God wouldn’t put any human child through such a hardship. He gets up, dusts off his clothes and goes out of the building. There is someone waiting outside. A man with a suitcase.  
“Hello, Credence. I thought I might find you here.” The man tells him.  
They don’t each other in the eye. They observe each other without looking at one another. He thinks that he likes this new man. He is like him.  
“Hello.” He answers.  
“My name is Newt. There is someone here who would really like to talk to you. Ms. Goldstein couldn’t come to you because she is helping with getting him to feel better.” The man tells him.  
He nods and wanders who would like to meet him now. Maybe his sister. Maybe it is all a trap. No, this man didn’t want to hurt him a few hours ago. He wouldn’t want to do it now.  
“Do you want to go with me?” The man, Newt, extends his hand.  
He nods and gets closer. He has nothing else to lose. Maybe it will be better if they kill him. Maybe he will finally go that better, warmer world. As he touches Newt’s arm they suddenly move to other place. It is a big flat, it looks tidy.  
“Credence.” He hears.  
It doesn’t sound like his name. It sound like a prayer. He looks up and meets eyes of his savior.  
“Mr. Graves.” He answers.  
The darkness inside of him boils. It’s still there, small and wounded, but ready to strike this man down. It’s only Ms. Goldstein presence by his side that makes him think. She wouldn’t put him at risk. She cares.  
“I realized that you didn’t know the truth, so I send Newt for you. “ She tells him with a soft voice.  
She looks at him with worry. But it doesn’t seem like she worries about him, but for him.  
“The man that used you, he wasn’t real Percival Graves.” She continues.  
It makes him look her in the eye. He has to know if she too isn’t lying. It seems too perfect, to find out his dream was true. The man on the bed moves, like he wants to get his attention.  
“It was me who has contacted you. But as things got worse Grindelwald stopped trusting me and decided to do everything by himself. It was easier to use my face, than to give me orders.” This man says.  
He nods. He starts looking around and notices that Newt is no longer by his side. There is his suitcase on the ground. He wonders where he went without it.  
“I want to apologize. For everything that he did to you with my face.” The man on the bed says.  
It makes him look up.  
“Was it a lie?” He finally asks.  
His voice is raspy, like he has been screaming for hours. He feels like he has never stopped screaming from the day he was borne.  
“What?” The man looks confused.  
“That I wasn’t a freak. That there was a place for me.”  
‘ _At your side._ ’ He doesn’t add.  
“No. It was me. It was true. I swear Credence.”  
During all that talking Ms. Goldstein has disappeared too. He finds it strange, that all those people just come and go without a trace.  
“I really wanted to help you. He convinced me that the best way to do it is by finding that child and making sure there will never be another woman like you mother.” The man explains himself.  
But he isn’t listening. He gets closer to the bed. Without a word he takes one of those powerful hands and bring it to his cheek.  
“I have kept my part of the deal.” He tells him. “It’s your turn.”  
Mr. Graves smiles at him thankfully.

 

They buy a flat, back in Great Britain. He has never been in another city, going to another country seems like too much at first. Newt comes with them, lives nearby. He takes care of some the animals from the suitcase, while their mother is at work. Mr. Graves find a job at Ministry. They know the truth and because none of them has been deceived by a wizard wearing his face, the treat the auror normally. When he gets back from work Mr. Graves teaches him how to use magic. Their lessons quickly become complicated. There is great power inside of him. There comes time when he tells Mr. Graves about his theory, about being the Devil’s child.  
“I don’t know how none of us couldn’t feel your power. Now it seems so… obvious.” The man tells him. “Your power has nothing to do with devil. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.”  
He blushes and smiles a little to himself.  
“Teach me another spell.” He asks finally.  
It’s another thing he has got better at. Sometimes making decisions still looks like too much, but he is getting better. He finds his favorite brands of food, most comfortable clothes. Once he asks Percival, as he tries to remember to call him, what he should wear.  
“Nothing.” Comes a smug answer.  
As they are laying naked in their bed, cuddling after a long day, he can’t hide how his blush spread all across his neck and chest. The man chuckles and answer more seriously.  
“Wear whatever you find most comfortable.”  
So he listens and buys warm clothes, and fitted jackets. At first he doesn’t like spending Percival’s money, but the man gets upset when he tells him that. Instead he tries to find cheaper things. Unfortunately he can’t return a present, so when he gets a new coat he only thanks sincerely. From that point a lot of things show up in his closet, this he has already tried on or are in his size. When he asks about them, he hears they are another presents. Soon he stops asking.

 

He never knew his mother. He doesn’t know about heritage. There was a tradition amongst purebloods. When a child was born a fortune-teller looked into their future. When he was born his mother was alone and there was no one to tell her what fate awaited her child. Maybe it is for the best. Fortunately there would a bittersweet consolation, that after everything he did found his place in the world.  
Sometimes he still thinks about past, about a man who bought him coca. He wanders where he is, if someone is healing his wounds. He is no longer the Devil’s child, he doesn’t hate. But as he rests his head on the chest of the man he loves, he wonders.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time he has lost control while receiving a punishment didn’t seem too out ordinary at first. He was fifteen, Chastity had just came to live with them. She still cried at night and asked about her before-family during the day. One night it was enough for mother, she got up from her bed and went to girls’ room. He heard her movements, curled up tightly in his own bed. He didn’t want to move, to act out his turn, but he knew that screaming and crying will anger mother even more. So he got up and opened a door to his room. Like he suspected mother was waiting for girls to let her in.

“I’m sorry, mother. I had a bad dream.” He told her quietly.

The sounds coming from other rooms stopped. It seemed like every other child was holding their breath, not knowing what to expect from their new mother. But he knew. When she turned to him, her mouth tight, he moved back into his room and came back with a belt. He handed it to her and waited.

“You are the Devil’s child. A deceiver. You should have died with your witch mother.” She spoke and raised her hand.

In that moment the door opened and Chastity came between them.

“It’s… It’s not his fault. It was me, I was crying and woke… woke everyone.” The girl spoke bravely.

Her little fists trembled from the effort. She was such a small girl, still stumbled around her words. He wandered how someone so small could contain so much courage.

“He has lied to me. He needs cleansing. So do you. No child of mine will be kept up at night by the Devil.”

He moved to the usual place, where he received punishments. He didn’t have to wait long. His hands hurt, he felt blood in his mouth. That was his punishment for lying. He hoped that mother would use most of her strength on him, so that little girl wouldn’t have to suffer too much. He realized how wrong he was when mother turned to Chastity and pulled her next to him. Hit after hit small backs turned purple. He was frozen for a second and then there was something moving inside of him, something black and ugly. He reached out to stop one of the strikes. The belt didn’t hit him. It turned into dark mist when it finally touched his scream. His mother froze, so did he.

“You… You are truly the Devil’s child.” Finally the woman spoke. “There is only one way to make you pure.”

He nodded, all of the previous fight had left him. He followed mother as she descended the stairs. All of the other children came out their rooms to see what would happen. Mother came close to the fire place and added more wood.

“Sit. It looks like your mother truly was a witch. She has left you for damnation. But you can become cleaner, never clean. No, you are destined to be dirty. Such is a fate of those like you.”

She took one of the metal rod and put it in the fire.

“God watches from above and he knows. He knows that you are not trying hard enough. And he knows that I will put an end to it. Take off your shirt.”

He quietly followed the instruction. He knew what was coming. He had heard that only fire could make one clean. Without asking he turned his back to mother and waited. From the intake of breath from every child in the room he knew that they too understood. It was the only way to make him clean. He bowed his head, bit his lip and stifled any scream trying to get out as the fire made him clean. Mother repeated the procedure several times. He focused on the thing inside him, that hateful thing which only brought him pain. It had to be the Devil’s doing, he didn’t doubt it. He lost conscious before mother ended her lesson. He woke up in his own bed, lying on his back. The pain in his back brought all of the memories back. He made a decision. It was the last time he had let the Devil take control. He would be strong for his family.

 

He likes to think about what ifs. Now, that he knows he is safe. He wonders what if he haven’t tried to stifle his magic. If he wouldn’t have hurt innocence people. Percival knows when he gets into one of those moods. They talk about it, but he sometimes he can’t understand how someone so good can stand looking at him.

“I’ve killed innocence people. I have let him take control.”

Even now he doesn’t know if he is speaking about Mr. Grindelwald or the Devil himself. For him they are one the same.

“It’s my fault. I have told him about you. You are a victim here, Credence. Don’t doubt it. You are a good, caring person.” Percival tells him.

He does doubt, but doesn’t speak about it at loud. He just cuddles closer and thinks. Sometimes he misses that other Mr. Graves. Not Percival, not Grindelwald. That person in between. He was different, his darkness seemed to call to him. Nowadays it is almost quiet inside of him. During long nights he misses these constant movement, that thing keeping him going at worst of times. He knows he doesn’t need it anymore, he is safe.

“Some animals after getting back to freedom don’t know what to do with themselves.” Newt tells him one day. They are feeding some of his animals, moving around magical suitcase without any pattern. “It takes time for them to get used to new habitat.”

He isn’t angry about being compared to an animal. It rings true. So he tries to take time, learns more magic, reads more books. When Percival gets back from work he waits for him by the door. They hug for few minutes, just to remind themselves both of them are here. Then they move to the living room, he makes tea and Percival tells him about his day. When he really needs affection he sits in the man’s lap. There is nothing sexual about it. When he has spoken about that one time in an alley, he got hugged for almost an hour. He didn’t complain, but was a little surprised. After all he did want it.

“It’s… He must have known you weren’t happy with things he was doing. It was terrible what he did.” Percival explained.

He’s accepted it, but sometimes he still feels curious. About how it would feel with Percival. But he doesn’t ask. It would be too much to ask even that from the man who gave him everything.

“We got an owl from Ms. Goldstein. She is curious how you are doing.” Percival tells him one afternoon.

He nods and passes him tea.

“I will be writing to her today. Do you want to write something too?”

He gets comfortable beside the man and wonders.

“I would like to tell her about magic.” He answers.

Percival smiles at him, this beautiful smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

“Of course.”

 

He isn’t the only one with traumas. Some nights he wakes up, because Percival turns around in his sleep too much. He knows what to do with a child having a nightmare, so he does the same with the man. He hugs him close, even though he knows it must look absurd. His small statue looks like nothing compared to Percival’s bulk. He shushes any whimpers, pets strong, scarred back. When it’s really bad he starts talking at loud. Sometimes he even prays. He has never stopped believing it God. Only know he thinks that God comes in form of people like Ms. Goldstein or Newt or Percival. So he prays that his savior will be saved too. As the night passes and his voice grows hoarser it seems to work. Percival stills and goes back to sleep. If it takes too much time, he has to get up to make some sandwiches for his work. He naps during the day to make up for lost sleep, but he doesn’t regret it. Helping someone he loves is enough.

“What… what are you doing?” Percival asks him one night.

He has been praying for some time so it takes him time to release that he can stop.

“You had a bad dream.” He explains and burrows his face in his beloved’s neck.

He likes to think in this way of Percival. Beloved, precious, savior. This good man deserves all of the praise he can get.

“You do it regularly?” Percival asks him.

He nods and takes a deep breath.

“Sometimes you scream in your sleep. Or sweat. I know… I know what it means. I had a lot of bad dreams before. So I try to help you.” He answers truthfully.

“Oh, Credence.” Percival moves back.

Before he can try to explain himself more there are lips on his. They are kissing softly, just like the first time. He melts into it, wonders what if Grindenwald has never happened.

What if it all was just another nightmare.

“Let’s get back to sleep.” Percival mumbles.

He nods and curls up into the man. That night passes quickly.

 

 

Scars are all over his body. He has grown used to them. He knows how he got each and one of them, it’s his life painted into his skin. Percival learns about them a few days after they move in. His hands where the only thing visible during their meetings, so the damage done to other parts of his body was never noticed. He is in the shower, happy under the warm water. Suddenly someone gets into the bathroom, in a rush looking for something.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m already late, but I have forgotten…”

He haven’t remembered to fully cover the bath with the curtain. He releases it when he hears a loud intake of breath.

“Credence…”

He thinks about turning around, about showing everything he was. But he knows it’s not proper, so he waits.

“I’m sorry.” He hears and there is a sound of a wizard disappearing.

He gets out and looks at himself in the mirror. He wonders if he really is this ugly. Maybe mother was right. He thinks about breaking the mirror. But it would only dirty the glass with his blood, he would have more scars that Mr. Graves wouldn’t be able to look on. Maybe that why only Mr. Grindenwald was the only one able to touch him in this way. He is too dirty for a good person. He dries himself and wonders what would happened if he had went with Mr. Grindenwald. When Mr. Graves gets back from work he isn’t waiting for him. He has found every long sleeved shirt, every long trousers. They are really comfortable, for that he is grateful. He makes tea and wonders if he should wear gloves too. His knuckles are covered in white, thin scars. Maybe they repulse Mr. Graves too. As if reading his thoughts the man comes in. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t speak. He wants to be good.

“I am really sorry, Credence. For both breaching your privacy today and the pain you had to go through.” Mr. Graves tells him with soft voice.

He turns back surprised.

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Graves. It’s just me…”

“No!” The man looks scandalized. “Nothing of it was your fault. As an adult it was my role to protect you, not yours to save yourself.”

He shrugs. He has grown used to only relaying on himself.

“And your scars… I can make them disappear if you want.” Mr. Graves tells him.

“Do you want me to?” He asks instead.

“Credence… I don’t care about them. I mean, they are part of you and if you want them gone it will happen. If you want them to stay you will be as beautiful as ever.”

He looks up surprised. There’s a smile on Mr. Graves face.

“I know that the way I have acted may say otherwise, but I find you beautiful, with or without scars.”

He takes it as his cue to move closer. Soon he is enveloped by strong arms.

“I love you, Mr. Graves.” He tells him.

For this is true. He has finally found his savior, his God, his everything. He knows he would do anything for him.

“I love you too, Credence. And please, call me Percival.”

They move apart after few minutes. He takes their tea and sits on the couch. Soon Percival is by his side and tells him about his first day at the Ministry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percival is a big softy for those he cares about. Don't ask me how I know it, I know it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for mistakes. You can find me on tumblr if you want to cry with someone about this paring: @halliaah


End file.
